Oliver Twist


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Oliver Twist 

 

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Whether Noah Claypole, whose rapacity was none of 

the least comprehensive, would have acceded even to 

these glowing terms, had he been a perfectly free agent, is 

very doubtful; but as he recollected that, in the event of 

his refusal, it was in the power of his new acquaintance to 

give him up to justice immediately (and more unlikely 

things had come to pass), he gradually relented, and said 

he thought that would suit him. 

’But, yer see,’ observed Noah, ‘as she will be able to do 

a good deal, I should like to take something very light.’ 

’A little fancy work?’ suggested Fagin. 

’Ah! something of that sort,’ replied Noah. ‘What do 

you think would suit me now? Something not too trying 

for the strength, and not very dangerous, you know. 

That’s the sort of thing!’ 

’I heard you talk of something in the spy way upon the 

others, my dear,’ said Fagin. ‘My friend wants somebody 

who would do that well, very much.’ 

’Why, I did mention that, and I shouldn’t mind turning 

my hand to it sometimes,’ rejoined Mr. Claypole slowly; 

‘but it wouldn’t pay by itself, you know.’ 

’That’s true!’ observed the Jew, ruminating or 

pretending to ruminate. ‘No, it might not.’ 



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’What do you think, then?’ asked Noah, anxiously 

regarding him. ‘Something in the sneaking way, where it 

was pretty sure work, and not much more risk than being 

at home.’ 

’What do you think of the old ladies?’ asked Fagin. 

‘There’s a good deal of money made in snatching their 

bags and parcels, and running round the corner.’ 

’Don’t they holler out a good deal, and scratch 

sometimes?’ asked Noah, shaking his head. ‘I don’t think 

that would answer my purpose. Ain’t there any other line 

open?’ 

’Stop!’ said Fagin, laying his hand on Noah’s knee. 

‘The kinchin lay.’ 

’The kinchins, my dear,’ said Fagin, ‘is the young 

children that’s sent on errands by their mothers, with 

sixpences and shillings; and the lay is just to take their 

money away—they’ve always got it ready in their 

hands,—then knock ‘em into the kennel, and walk off 

very slow, as if there were nothing else the matter but a 

child fallen down and hurt itself. Ha! ha! ha!’ 

’Ha! ha!’ roared Mr. Claypole, kicking up his legs in an 

ecstasy. 

’Lord, that’s the very thing!’ 



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’To be sure it is,’ replied Fagin; ‘and you can have a 

few good beats chalked out in Camden Town, and Battle 

Bridge, and neighborhoods like that, where they’re always 

going errands; and you can upset as many kinchins as you 

want, any hour in the day. Ha! ha! ha!’ 

With this, Fagin poked Mr. Claypole in the side, and 

they joined in a burst of laughter both long and loud. 

’Well, that’s all right!’ said Noah, when he had 

recovered himself, and Charlotte had returned. ‘What 

time to-morrow shall we say?’ 

’Will ten do?’ asked Fagin, adding, as Mr. Claypole 

nodded assent, ‘What name shall I tell my good friend.’ 

’Mr. Bolter,’ replied Noah, who had prepared himself 

for such emergency. ‘Mr. Morris Bolter. This is Mrs. 

Bolter.’ 

’Mrs. Bolter’s humble servant,’ said Fagin, bowing with 

grotesque politeness. ‘I hope I shall know her better very 

shortly.’ 

’Do you hear the gentleman, Charlotte?’ thundered 

Mr. Claypole. 

’Yes, Noah, dear!’ replied Mrs. Bolter, extending her 

hand. 



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’She calls me Noah, as a sort of fond way of talking,’ 

said Mr. Morris Bolter, late Claypole, turning to Fagin. 

‘You understand?’ 

’Oh yes, I understand—perfectly,’ replied Fagin, telling 

the truth for once. ‘Good-night! Good-night!’ 

With many adieus and good wishes, Mr. Fagin went his 

way. Noah Claypole, bespeaking his good lady’s attention

proceeded to enlighten her relative to the arrangement he 

had made, with all that haughtiness and air of superiority, 

becoming, not only a member of the sterner sex, but a 

gentleman who appreciated the dignity of a special 

appointment on the kinchin lay, in London and its 

vicinity. 



Oliver Twist 

 

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